


The Very Bad No Good Plan

by Golden_Ticket



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Very Bad Ideas, don't skate and flirt, poor attempts at Dirty Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Ticket/pseuds/Golden_Ticket
Summary: Short drabble about how Scott has the very brilliant idea of talking dirty to Tessa on the ice.





	The Very Bad No Good Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Short short short drabble just shy of 2000 words. It's like a snack but sexier. I hope you like :)

The Very Bad No Good Plan

 

Japan is loud and full and busy. And famous for its citizens love of figure skating. If Tessa and Scott had been celebrities there before, now after their third Olympic run, they are superstars. This is mostly noticeable because for all their semi-open practices and the shows, there are half as many cameras on them as there are people in the audience. Tessa, always more so than Scott, is aware of these cameras at any given moment. Sure, she has relaxed a bit since going on Ellen, which helped convince 50% of people who care that they are absolutely a thing (which they are) but the other 50% (who are startlingly louder for some reason) that they’re not. So she had let him run relatively amok for the last couple of days, knowing that as long as they don’t give an explicit confirmation, people will have enough doubt to keep them safe for a little while longer while they tour.

 

Still, she insists that they keep the off-ice touching to a relatively tame level and also had not said anything when they’d gotten their itineraries which put them in separate hotel rooms for Japan and up as per usual with Kaitlyn and Chiddy in Canada. Which effectively meant that for alone-time, they had to do a lot of sneaking around in the evenings and getting up early to get back to their respective rooms (and ‘them’ meant Scott here because Tessa wanted to get every ounce of sleep she could). This also didn’t work every night and didn’t work at all in Canada, which had the result of both of them getting kind of keyed up about doing things to each other which was as exhilarating as it was frustrating. Paired of course with holding back when in public, their programs were loaded with sexual tension and eventually, getting Tessa down from a lift at the show in Vancouver, Scott has a thought.

 

“Look at me,” he says under his breath, a trained keyword which she expects and so she does, keeping her eyes on him until she can’t because he is pulling her against his cheek. What he says then is definitely new, though.

“Can’t wait to get you naked,” he whispers, quick, until he has to push her away again and he can see the strain on her face to keep from reacting.

“What are you doing?” She says over a grin without even moving her teeth.

“Getting you in the mood,” he replies before singing along to two lines of their music and pulls her in again, head landing firmly in the crook of her neck. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Scott,” she breathes, a warning sharp next to his ear. “Don’t distract me. Stop.”

The warning is as good as null because as they separate for twizzles, they’re perfectly in sync and once he takes her hand again to skate side by side, he has a glint in his eye. She won't be easily distracted. But he can totally try some more.

“What’ll you do if I don’t?” He challenges and pulls her in. “Will you punish me?”

The next move that has her trace his neck with her fingers is now featuring _nails_ and Scott forgets to breathe for a second, feeling his blood rush down south. He should be careful now but it’s too much fun to stop.

 

“Am I a bad, bad boy?” He asks and pulls her closer by the hips, which is not technically a part of the choreography. She laughs because he’s being a dork about it but still gently, with a dancer’s flip of her wrist, she plucks his hands off of her and launches into the next step sequence.

 

“I can make it up to you later,” he tells her over a couple of rumba steps and she raises her left eyebrow just a hint, just enough for him to catch her interest.

“How?” She asks getting closer. _Now they’re talking_.

 

“Start by kissing every inch of you,” he begins when thankfully the choreography has him pull her back tight against his front and his nose brushing her and next he runs his hand from her stomach to her arm wrapped around his head. He is very deliberately catching her nipple under his fingers and he can feel her breath catch in her throat, which in turn makes him twitch against her ass and _wow, okay, slow down now, buddy_.

“Careful,” Tessa warns as she turns to face him again, her sweet smile turning almost predatory. “Gonna get hard for me, yeah?”

 

 _Fuck_. He can’t help but flinch slightly and has she pushes herself off from the ice for him to catch her in a rotational lift, he prays that nobody is looking too hard at his stupid tight pants. That woman. This was a very bad no good plan, apparently. He should have known.

 

He was supposed to get her all hot and bothered but joke’s obviously on him now, because of course she is great at this too, it really shouldn't surprise him at this point. His hands on her as he spins her around his body are as steady as ever but his breath is not, especially as he lowers her down, her sliding down close to his body where he is just stirring to life for her. He really needs to control that thing and fast.

“Fuck, want you so bad,” he still whispers as his face is pressed to her neck again and he holds her, elevated against him and they’re missing at least two beats of the music but he doesn’t care.

 

Her hands are fisting his hair, long now at the base of his neck because she likes it this way. Her thigh is pressed flush against his crotch and he can’t help how he blindly pushes into the friction–and then her knee, her knee as she sets herself back on the ground (because he is useless right now, who is he kidding?) would be enough to get him to solidly tent his pants if she didn’t whisper “Focus” into the crook of his neck.

 

They have two steps to catch up on to be in time for the next segment and Scott pulls through by a threat. Once they’re on beat again, Tessa has decided to get him back fully. She runs her hand down the side of his body (also not a part of the program, mind you) and whispers under her breath: “Whattaya wanna do to me?”

He stares at her. “Come on, Scott,” she commands.

“I wanna–,” he starts and his mind goes blank. He has to spin her again, skating paralel next to her, his hand clasped tight around hers.

“I want your mouth on me,” she says from beside him and he thinks he might collapse on the ice right then and there.

 

 _Canadian ice dancer, death by unfortunate boner_. He can see the tweets in his mind.

 

 _Get it together, Moir, you got only yourself to blame for this_. What an idiot to believe he could rattle Tessa. She’s got him by the balls and it’s not even funny anymore.

In a last desperate attempt, he draws her in again, careful to keep his pelvis as far away from hers as possible and he looks her dead in the eye for his swan song.

“I’m gonna tear you apart tonight,” and he wouldn’t need to hear his cracking voice to know he is so out of his league here (as per usual); the glint in her eye would suffice.

 

The last lift has her twirling around his torso again and he can only pray that the bulge in his pants isn’t too obvious, hoping for the black of the fabric being swallowed enough from the low lights to hide just how much of an idiot he is.

 

They spin into their closing position after he lets her down and end up sitting on the ice face to face, bodies pressed tight together which is doing absolutely nothing to help his _situation_. He clasps her face in his hand, the other curled tightly around her hip and she runs her fingers through his hair again. It’s so good, it’s really, really bad.

“So you’re crap at dirty talk,” she says over the roaring applause the crowd erupts in.

“Evidently,” he mutters and stares at her mouth, trying to get a grip on himself.

“Come on,” she grins after a while on the ground there but he digs his fingers into her skin to keep her from getting up.

“I need a second,” he tells her and he knows it’s superfluous because she can definitely _feel_ why.

 

But they can’t linger much longer and he frantically tries to adjust his waist band just a little, pulling his pants up to re-package things somewhat subtly and they go through their bows at top speed. He is actually pulling at her hands trying to get her off the ice and she just cackles, slightly lagging behind him. Off-ice, he nearly trips while he gets his guards on while walking and he darts into the first deserted dressing room he sees. He nearly has a heart attack when Tessa gets in after him and throws the door shut but instead of saying anything, she just laughs, loudly.

 

“Serves you well,” she says once she’s done, eyes flickering to his hard-on and he’s about to tell her to shut up when she darts forward at him, catching his face in her hands and kisses him like there’s no tomorrow. They stumble backward from her force against the make-up table, pencils and mascaras and brushes rattling as they topple over from their impact and Tessa grins against his mouth as she pries one hand off to slither it between their bodies, down to where he’s pulsing for her and cups him, hard.

“Shit, Tessa, you’re killing me,” he mumbles into her mouth but grips her tighter, desperate and crazed for her, like the reckless idiot man he is.

 

And then she lets go and breaks away from him and she looks so wicked, he almost makes a mess of his costume right there.

“Patience,” she says, licks her lips while giving him a heated once-over and then, like a flash of frustration and lust, she’s gone and he’s left to his own devices.

 

They have to get back out there in ten minutes and he is _so screwed_.

 


End file.
